Fury of Happiness
by Salad n' Breadsticks
Summary: There exists some men that are forged in the fires of another, and, in doing so, may burn brighter than even their predecessor. Whether that flame will lead to ruin is up to the one who wields it.


The foundation of the world: a lie. The beliefs humanity holds onto: a lie. Its will to move forward: a truth.

One question arises: can a truth built on a lie still stand the test of time?

And if the flame is cut short, can it be lit again?

* * *

Scene 1: Revelations

The world fell to pieces around him, and yet he did not move. He wanted to reach out, but there was nothing to reach to. As he saw the limp body of his closest friend bleed out on the throne he built for himself, he felt nothing. Not sorrow nor happiness. He stared, stared and stared and stared, waiting for him to get back up and for him, or anyone, really, to explain to him why. _Why._ Why did Lelouch do this? What destroyed his heart? Could he have seen it?

There was the question Rivalz did not want to think of. _Could I have helped him? Did I just not notice?_ Here he called him his friend, and yet he reciprocated no friendly deeds. He never helped Lelouch in his time of need. All he wanted to do now was understand, understand the enigma that was his friend. For what reason, he didn't quite know. Maybe to carry on his legacy. One after the other, his legs slowly started moving, out through the crowd, and into fresh air.

Before long, he stood before the remnants of a place he held dear: Ashford Academy. While some parts of it were destroyed, some of the dorms, notably his, were still left intact. He unlocked the door and started to pack his things. Clothes, papers, pictures. The only things that mattered were the things he kept. Everything else, he threw away. One thing was on his mind: moving on. If he didn't do it now, he never would.

He grabbed his diploma and never looked back.

* * *

College wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it was. While it did take a lot of work, law and debate came almost naturally to him. His proudest achievement at that point would have been an analysis of the Area systems and how strict regulation ultimately led to its own downfall, which had gotten him onto the Dean's list (it had actually almost gotten him expelled, but after a viral spread and a direct message from the new Queen, opinions changed quickly). Speaking of, said queen still talked to him semi-regularly (how Nunnally found the time for such things still dumbfounded him). Her attempt of holding onto a fragment of the 'good ol' days' was a get-together of the old school council. Their next one was planned in a few days, but he was seriously considering cancelling on them with the increasing workload on him (the Dean's list came with a lot of responsibilities).

The current moment had him packing up for his first job: an internship advising for an international diplomatics job. His first assignment: Ukraine.

* * *

A white ceiling. That was the first thing he saw.

An IV drip. That was the first thing he felt.

More color returned to his eyes, and more sense returned to his body. And memories returned to his mind. Fire, and _sound_. Pure, unaltered, unyielding sound emanating from the barrels of the warzone. In his second week, riots had broken out while he was taking notes of the international meeting he was present at. And in the next moment, guns had been aimed down every corner of the room they occupied.

And Rivalz Chardemonde, in all of his high-class education in a _prestigious_ Brittanian university, could think of nothing but running. Even as people died around him, even after a bullet pierced his arm, the only thing he could do was put one foot in front of the other as fast as possible.

He clenched his right hand, followed by his left. _Yes, they still work._ With fire in his eyes, Rivalz made a silent vow: no one would ever lay him so low again.

* * *

"Hana!" _Hut._ "Dul!" _Hut._ "Set!" _Hut._ "Met!" _Hut._

Each count indicated a new motion for Rivalz to move to, a practiced sequence of actions shown to him by his Tae Kwon Do instructor. For some reason or other, he reminisced at the dumbfounded look on his advisor's face when he asked to learn some sort of self-defense or martial arts.

_"You? Of all people, you want to learn how to fight?"_

It had been easy to convince her after reminding her of his most recent internship. And so, he went from a general class course, to now sessions in a dojo with one or two others. And he practiced just as meticulously as all his other studies, and was rewarded all the more for it.

Now, he felt like he needed it more than ever in preparation for his next trip: Japan.

* * *

Ashford Academy had grown bigger, he noticed. He did remember a generous donation being granted on the princess' behalf a few years ago, but he hadn't expected it to have grown quite so large. It now almost resembled a decently-sized college. He had a lot of work to do, but there was _something_ drawing him...

* * *

Lelouch's room. It hadn't changed much over the years, a sort-of superstition that anyone who comes close to the demon king's items will become a demon themselves. Sometimes he laughed at the notion, other times he wanted to take a close look in the mirror.

Why was he here? _Why was he here?_ _Why was he __**here**__?_ The question repeated itself over and over in Rivalz' mind until the words themselves started to lose meaning. The thought echoed over and over and over until all he could hear were distorted utterances that he couldn't even comprehend, then-

-silence. He did know why he was here. He was looking for answers, and there was no one around to stop him from doing so. And he searched, turning over every nook and cranny, taking apart all the shelves, looking for the few puzzle pieces left to the enigma that was Lelouch Lamperouge. The feverish storm that overcame him was without end, mindlessly moving and ripping apart and moving until there was nothing left to move.

He collapsed backwards, the bed softening the blow. His breaths were raggedy, his heartbeat manic. He righted himself, and merely gazed around him. Around the disaster he made. He softly moved his head softly from side to side, looking through everything. _Splinters, wood, cardboard, plastic..._

His only findings were a few papers and two flash drives. The papers consisted of exactly what one would expect considering the environment-class assignments, tests, et cetera. As for the flash drives, one seemed to be just for music, and Rivalz couldn't open the other one. Taking images of everything, he put everything except the drives back in their original place. Those, he pocketed as he headed towards the door.

There was nothing there, _nothing._ Which begged the question, what was he expecting to find? There were only scraps left, anyway. Rivalz turned around and gestured as if to assert that statement, _splinters, wood, cardboard, paper-_

_Paper?_ That wasn't there before, he was sure of that. Regardless, he went over and picked it up. No words on it, save for a map of Japan's islands, with one circled that he recognized as Kamine Island. He flipped it over, and that side had text.

* * *

The pact is sealed.

* * *

The wind bristled in his face as he fingered his folding knife, ready to open it at a moment's notice. The only thing of note among the sand and trees as a small opening to what he presumed was a cave. Pulling out his flashlight, he ventured in.

His only guide was a singular red light, matching the shade of the red crane he had found in his notes. He ventured forward, suppressing the urge to run as the walls felt like they were closing in. He started to be able to make the crane out, as the flashlight started flickering. "I just put in batteries!" Rivalz sighed as he set down his backpack to get some fresh ones, only then catching a glimmer of that unusual feeling he had. In alarm, he spun around to face complete and utter darkness. He looked everywhere around him trying to find the exit, the only light reaching his eyes was that of the red sigil.

He felt it again, that unusual sensation of the walls shifting. _This place was alive._ The fear he had been suppressing started to bubble again.

**You are looking for something, are you not?**

Rivalz turned towards the noise, with only darkness greeting his eyes.

**Are you not?**

"Yes! I am!" The noise had come from the other side, leaving Rivalz helpless and confused. "Who are you? What is this?" _Calm, Rivalz, calm._ He focused on the training from his classes. _Focus on breathing, and keep it steady._ The feeling crept up on him again, significantly stronger than the last. Carbon dioxide was burning in his throat as he struggled to breathe. As he tried to find a way out, the only thing remaining in his vision was the singular red crane, now burning brighter than ever. With nothing else, he let that be his guide.

As he approached, the voice boomed even louder. **What are you looking for?**

Even if he could speak, even if he had the mind to speak, he wasn't sure if he had a reply.

Even so, the voice boomed. **What are you looking for?**

"The truth!" With that, Rivalz found himself face to face with the crane. Air returned to his lungs, and he reached out to touch the symbol.

* * *

A vast plane of emptiness that contained everything. Those two juxtapositions clawed at Rivalz' mind and threatened to eat him alive. But he would not let it, he would keep it together for as long as necessary until he could-

**Do you remember?**

_Spent shells, stained glass, blood coating the stairs._

**Do you remember?**

_The sky engulfed in purple, "No, I mustn't!"_

**Do you ask?**

_The cross he painted as he fell, "Zero, Zero!"_

"Why?"

**You know.**

"Was I powerless?"

**No.**

"What could I have done?"

**Everything.**

_"Love is like glass."_

**Do you have a wish?**

"Please."

* * *

"I will need nine minutes-and by the way, sir, about yesterday-"

"No need to worry."

A familiar place, yet distant all the same. The echoes of his voice snapped Rivalz out of his reverie and made him take focus of himself and those around him. There was someone in front of him holding a chesspiece, and a Britannian noble opposing him on the chessboard.

"You start with the king?" The noble broke down in pompous laughter.

A raven-haired schoolboy with feigned innocence simply smiled in response.

* * *

AN (2/10/19): I've been sitting on this script for a while, but don't really know what I want to do with it. But, might as well post it and see what happens.


End file.
